“If you want to run fast, run alone. But if you want to run far, better run together.”
Rabbi Joseph Potaznik, the Executive VP of the New York Board of Rabbis, points out, “As we prepare for Passover, one of the most important requirements is inviting others to be part of the Seder, not to be alone at the table, but to be together with family and friends.”
And then after the first night, and throughout Passover, as we sit down at our family table quite a few times, it would be nice to tell our children and grandchildren stories and show photos of our own Bukharian Jewish ancestors.
The Obligation to Remember
That is why we say, as we begin to recite the narrative, “Let all who are hungry and all who are in need participate in our Passover experience.”
We also welcome young people to ask challenging questions so that we can listen and learn from each other.
A Rabbi once remarked, “Never underestimate the Jewish soul.”
Passover reminds us that, after all we had endured, we are still here, not alone but together. No less a requirement of the Haggadah is to tell your son and daughter as we break matzo, and eat bitter herbs at the table, the story of our ancestors’ exodus from Egypt.”
We want to let them know how their great grandparents prepared for one of the most important holidays in their lives and to tell them about the painstaking baking of matzo. These are testaments to the traditions and cultural heritage of our ancestors, as well as an undeniable tribute to great names and a prerequisite for the development of our entire culture among our youth.
A Voice from Kokand
The classic of Bukharian Jewish literature, writer and the poet of 20th century, Mordechai Bachaev-Mukhib (1911-2007), in his novel “In the Stone Bag” written after long years of imprisonment in one of Stalin’s Siberian dungeons and camps, relates to our story of the past. It is a testament to the traditions and cultural heritage of our Jewish ethnicity.
I’d like to share with you an excerpt from this book, translated into English, relating to his childhood in the city of Kokand:
Baking Matzo in 1921
“I am ten years old. The year is 1921. Our house is amid preparation for the Passover holiday. I also take part in these preparations even though I am only ten. My older brothers have long been living separately, but during all seven days of the holidays, they and their wives and children spend Passover with us, so the preparations take place in our house.
“Each member of our large family does a certain job daily, on mother’s instructions. The main task is baking the matzo. It was usually done in the homes of some elderly widows. In our neighborhood, there lived several such widows.
“They would build a new large oven called tandoor in their courtyards. They would hire several strong ladies and men, to knead the dough and roll the matzo. They would then bake matzo for five to six families daily.
“My mother would set a date with one of the widows, for baking our own matzo at her house. Finally, it was our turn. Early in the morning, my elder brother, mother and I brought thirty-three kilograms of Passover flour which we had purchased at our local community store to the widow’s house. There, everyone set to work, under the watchful eye of the mistress of the house.
“In the middle of a large room, just one woman sat on the carpet. In front of her, there was a copper basin for kneading dough placed on top of clean sheepskin rugs. Pouring part of the flour into a bowl and adding some water, she began to knead the dough. An assistant, standing next to the woman, added water at the woman’s request. On either side of the woman, there sat two strong guys with sleeves rolled up to their elbows. They selected pieces of half-finished dough from the copper basin, placed that on the boards lying in front of them and brought the dough to readiness with their fists.
“After that, they divided the dough into round-shaped pieces and handed them to women sitting next to them, in groups of three, some, with large boards in front of them and rolling pins in their hands. Then, young and old women quickly rolled out the dough, first with a small rolling pin and then with a special large one. The result was a round matzo the size of a large flat dish. It could freely pass into the furnace (tandoor). The finished sheet of dough was pinned on one side with a special rolling pin called randai matzo. Then, that finished sheet of dough was rolled onto a thin rolling pin and taken over to a pillow called rafida.
“The widow herself was making magic at the stove. She took this pillow and skillfully pasted the raw matzo on the inner wall of the tandoor. It was the children’s responsibility to bring the pillow to the widow which they took very seriously. It was at the oven where the hardest work took place. The widow-baker stood in front of the tandoor, wearing just one light dress, constantly watching the oven, so as not to burn the matzo. She had to remove it on time.
“As soon as the matzo had the right color, she quickly removed it with her right hand using a special sleeve, and passed it to a man, waiting nearby. He just as quickly, but carefully, laid the fragile baked matzo on a large table, covered with a clean tablecloth. Meanwhile the widow-baker would check the fire, so that it did not become too high or too low. She would then sculpt the next matzo on the inner wall of the tandoor. The oven was so hot that, for an untrained person, it was very difficult to stand nearby. She would bake about eight matzos every ten minutes.
“By noon time, we stacked all our baked matzos, tied them in a tablecloth and moved them home, where my mother put them on shelves, prepared in advance for Passover.”
A Legacy Worth Preserving
Dear friends, our roots go deep into history, and our traditions are the threads that help us remember where we came from. So, let us strive to ensure that future generations preserve this connection. Chag Pesach kosher v’samiyah to each and every one of you.
By Rafael Sofiev